The Weaver

Dawn tiptoes stealthily on the

Weaver with her slender back

Strapped to the loom,

As she whistles a merry tune

The chirping birds pause and listen

With envious wonder

And the dawn takes his flight

She weaves her dreams with the

crimson yarn

The warp and the weft entwine in a magical union

The heddle towers majestically and

The batten beats down the blazing trail

The shuttle had journeyed

Pain,hunger and thirst

Are her familiar guests

But the weaver weaves on

Whistling a merry tune

And when the dusk winks at her

He sees an exquisite dream

Sparkling in the weaver's loom